For James Joyce At The Beginning Of Days Or Near It

in the childhood winds of her, Maria Stella,

Christmas Queen, dreamed, ivory tower

he sees the small ships rise,

the silver and the rubied and the dimming

surprise of the pearl coves opening

and the hidden doors. and the whole of Dublin

sea washed, as in a dream

the ruby ships of the children crest and the

silver ones and he is all at sea and does not remember

his dream or how he felt then

or what it was he wanted to be or

maria stella, queen of everything and of the fabled ships

that fall away too soon. the silver and the rubied

stream breaks off into the blanched thoughts in the afternoon

where the orchards are razed in the snow blinds

when all is losing, lost and the cost of forgetting

Maria stella, queen of all heaven-sent, scented winds and of the

beginning when

the small ships rise and the lore lies all before me when

prayer is love and love is prayer only

it is only

the moonrise in her eyes

and the harbor takes the little ships farther than the foam of

those who left before rippling back now, for awhile, into the small

 coves

in the pearl coves and it overflows and he cannot forsake now can he

the silvered and rubied brimming over, the ruins of the beautiful

about his feet

in the shoals of his lost kingdoms

mary angela douglas 6 july 2014